


The Fire Mage

by MisterHix



Category: Sword and Sorcery - Fandom, Warhammer Fantasy, heroquest - Fandom
Genre: Action, Adventure, Dwarf, Elf, Fire, Gen, Human, Mage, Orc, Wizard, Zombie, barbarian, mummy - Freeform, skeleton, sword and sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27393112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterHix/pseuds/MisterHix
Summary: As the party quests to stop a dangerous Mage Formatus finds some of his spells have been stolen leaving him to struggle on without them.





	The Fire Mage

Rain poured down in rivets between the cracks in the carved stone of Black Mountain Crag. The doorway, opened in secret, provided dark sanctuary from the terrible weather for the four adventurers.  
"By all the powers above and below is there any more dreadful thing than rain!" Pierre said as he rung out his long white beard in his fingers.  
"We may just find out." Commented Sal with a chuckle. His own long locks clung to his delicate features and framed his face in a raggedly handsome way.  
Pierre spat and drew his sword once he got the lantern lit.  
The hallway was dark and long.  
"Why are we doing this again?" Pierre asked, not too happy about another excursion into the grim unknown.  
"One hundred and fifty gold crowns each." Talorc said instantly. His broad muscles barely covered by his travelling cloak.  
"We are here..." Formatus reminded them, with more than a hint of annoyance as he pulled back his own hood "to assassinate the Fire Mage Balur."  
He was on edge, halfway up the path to the entrance he told them his bond to fire magic had been "stolen" leaving him with diminished power. It clearly grated on him still.  
"Well then," Pierre piped up "Let's find the blighter and give him what for."

Up a long winding staircase the party came to a room full of books and tables. They were stacked so high they almost looked as though they held up the ceiling.   
"Such riches." Formatus declared, his eyes going wide.  
Talorc idly picked up a book and held it like it might give him the rot before dropping it onto the floor.  
"Careful!" Formatus chided him. "Those are worth more than gold!"  
Talorc's face held only the purest disbelief as Formatus bent next to him and picked up the book then squirreled it away in his rugsack.  
"These are alright, I suspect our host hasn't actually read all of these." Sal added as he ran his fingers over the leather covers of the books "Most like he took the valuable ones already and left these to rot. Shame, there's a lot of hard work her."  
"I'll say..." Formatus began again but was cut off by the opening of the door. The loud creaking left shambling forms in its doorway. Two of them, rotting husks with large heavy clubs. The foremost one's eyes locked onto Formatus's who was closest to the door and it lunged with an audible groan. The carved log of wood swung and caught the young Wizard sharply on the temple. Formatus fell to the stones and lay there, his head bloody. Sal leaped forth and drew his blade to slash into the dead flesh of the zombie's chest. The wound did not bleed and again the monster swung its club. Sal was quick enough to get out of the way as the two entered the book room.   
Pierre charged with his sword at them and plunged it deep into the zombies leg but it did not buckle, instead it simply twisted its head at him and reached down to grab at him, gripping his beard with his dead and powerful hand.  
"Let go of me you rotten egg!" Pierre cried as he pulled away, bristles of hair ripping from his face as he tried to escape.  
Talorc stepped in now to cut down the wretch and with a mighty blow from his broadsword he struck the first one down by removing its head from its shoulders. The dead thing died again and this time it stuck. The club hit the ground with a thud and its body with a thump. The other zombie raised its club and brought it down on the tough muscled shoulder of Talorc and a loud snapping could be heard and the large man roared in pain as he fell to one knee, his eyes filled with anger.  
Sal moved to intercede himself with hus usual grace and a look of fierce determination on his face. His slender blade slid into its chest and pierced its rotting heart.   
"Die!" He cursed at it and the monster fell beside its companion onto the ground.  
Sal's attention quickly turned to Talorc, who seemed injured. Pierre, grateful to be freed from the dead mans grip groomed himself mournfully.  
It was a moment before Talorc spoke up.  
"Formatus." The others looked to the wizard and saw that he had not moved.   
"Hells teeth!" Pierre cried and rushed to the wizards aid.  
"He's loosing blood." He said.  
"Step back" Sal said and reached out to the wall "Aqua Vitae!" his hand touched the stone and from it came the head of a stone lion that opened its jaws and spilled forth fountain of water. Sal scooped it into his hands and dribbled it gently into Formatus's mouth.  
A moment later the wizards eyes opened and with bleary vision he looked at his companions.  
"What, what happened?" He asked, reaching up to his head to inspect the pain that still throbbed in his skull.  
"You got..." Pierre began but Sal cut him off.  
"We were careless, all of us." He said looking at the others as they in turn lead their eyes to the ground.  
"Zombies, it was zombies wasn't it?" Formatus asked, trying to remember for himself.  
"Yes and there will be more than that. Come, up now, the days labours have naught but started."

"So you've come." Balur said, safely behind a rank of Skeleton Warriors.  
The party stood in the doorway all of them ready to strike but it was Formatus, who had reason to hate the Fire Mage and with that hate he struck first.  
"TEMPESTAS!" He cried and the a whirl of storming cloud surrounded Balur as the Skeletons who once stood motionless sprang to screaming life. Dread cackles coming from their lipless mouths. Talorc, perhaps seeking to redeem himself for his slow action before, struck one down first and sent the bones scattering across the floor. Another of the fiends came upon him with a farmers scythe and swung its deadly arc at him. His recklessness left him open and a gash one could fit a hand into was cut open upon his arm. The same arm he'd nursed since the zombie struck it by chance.  
Talorc's sword fell.  
Pierre next charged in and swung at the one with a scythe, the blow smacked a bone clean out from the monsters legs sending the rest of it tumbling with a shriek.  
Sal's thin sword, which would have a hard time stopping any of these undead instead he hurled his body against it and struck it to the wall where it crumbled in a heap of dried bones.   
The last one held an axe, mighty and heavy but weightless it the skeletons hands. It swung high but Sal's blade sprang up and protected him just in time.   
"NO!" Fomatus cried as the summoned tempest vanished to reveal nothing, no Mage and no body. Balur had escaped somehow.  
"Enough, GENIE!" he called and the great spirit of wind came to his aid.  
"Destroy them Genie, do it now!" Formatus words were full of hatred and the Genie swirled about the skeleton with the axe and with the crushing force of ten gales it ground the very bones of it to powder, leaving only the heavy axe to strike the ground with a heavy clang.  
"Talorc, are you well?" Sal asked helping him up.  
"My sword... I can't..." The mountain of a man seemed to be in a lot of pain. His hand trembled greatly.  
"Easy now." Sal said, taking him to one side while Formatus, paying little heed to any of it, walked to the spot Balur once stood at and swore in the old tongue.  
Pierre took the axe and felt its weight, he found it to his liking while his comrades tended their own business.  
"Formatus, Talorc needs your help." Sal asked.  
The Wizard shook himself from his distractions and went to him.  
"What's wrong?"   
"It's his arm, the cuts not that bad but something is gravely wrong with his shoulder."  
Formatus made a few ginger pokes at Talorc's shoulder with his fingers. The large man winced despite himself.  
"Powers, why didn't you say anything Talorc?" Formatus asked, his brow furrowed with concern.  
"It was not that bad." Talorc replied.  
"Such lies." Formatus said, and waved his hands.  
"SANA CORPORIS!"   
The sickening sound of Talorc's muscles mending was audible to all of them along with pained cries from the man.   
"Don't be a baby." Pierre told him as he posed rather heroically with the battleaxe he had now claimed.  
Talorc huffed and refused to speak further.

"Don't move!" Sal cautioned and Formatus froze. His foot leaning on the delicate wire that crossed their path in the narrow hallway.  
"I won't, I promise." His near brush with death earlier was quite enough for Formatus and he did not relish the idea of being brought that close to the darkness ever again.  
"Pierre, can you do anything?"   
Pierre looked at the wire and then the wall with a series of holes dug out of the stonework and grumbled to himself.  
Talorc looked back at them and gave a grimace as Pierre bent down to get a better look at the trap. He reached out with a thin finger and plucked at it. Getting a twang from the tight wire.  
"Please," Formatus pleaded through gritted teeth "do not do that again!"  
Pierre gave a grim chuckle and reached for his toolbelt. After hearing him fiddle with it a moment Formatus was beginning to sweat.  
"Can you not hurry up?" He spoke out of desperation and strain, beads of sweat were starting to run down his forehead.  
"Hush, I'm almost done." Pierre told him.  
A tiny snip and the deed was done. Pierre stood and put his tools away, hefting up his axe onto his shoulder.  
"You can move now!" He said to the static Formatus who slowly took his foot up and then down by his other, standing straight up.  
"I'm beginning to think you're enjoying this." He said dryly to which Pierre gave an amused grumble.

At last they came to the sanctum, notable as it was for the emblem of living flame upon its lodestone.  
"I'll go first." Formatus insisted but Pierre objected.  
"And you'll be first to die. I didn't save you from that trap to let you die now."  
Formatus rallied on him.  
"Shut up. You have no idea what he's done to me." His voice fumed with unspoken anger.   
The others were silent.  
"Second." Sal offered.  
"What?"  
"You should go in second. If this Mage is able to wield fire as Mentor says and we already know he's expecting us then you should go in second."  
Formatus thought for a moment.  
"Then who goes in first?"  
All eyes turned to Talorc who was idly looking down the hallway, clearly not listening until he noticed their attention on him.  
"What, what is it?"

When Talorc emerged from the walls thanks to the wizards magic he saw Balur before him flanked by two mummies that looked suspiciously flammable for bodyguards of a fire mage, but he reasoned that wizards were strange and in general very little they did made much sense to him. So he stabbed one in the back.  
The mummy leaned back from his attack and groaned loudly, at that the door flew open and the others appeared.  
"Die, FOOLS!" Balur spat and summoned about him a blazing storm that began to eat away at the furniture as he cackled madly.  
The other mummy shuffled forward to protect its master and it got a brain full of Pierre's axe. Sal covered Formatus, ready to be a last layer of defense.  
Despite the mighty blows given to them the mummies remained alert and the first reached back to grab Talorc and with unholy strength it picked him up and hurled him against the wall. The large man seemed to weigh no more than a sack of flour in its withered hands.  
The room swelled in flames, tables and chairs caought fire, the danger increasing with every moment that passed and the mad cackle of Balur echoed within fire.  
"PILA FLAMMAE!" Balur cried out and sent a blast of fire towards Sal.  
The fire engulfed him completely and sent Formatus flying back against the wall, flames licking at his cape but when the attack ended Sal stood where he was, his clothes charred and burned but still alive. When he moved Sal's skin scraped against itself like stone and he stepped forward to strike at the mummy closest to him. His sword, now dark from the fire came down and struck the one that threw Talorc. The mummy was knocked back into a burning chair and it took light as if it were kindling, a horrid hollow howling came from its mouth as it crumbled to ash before him.  
The other mummy punched Pierre in his chest so hard it knocked him off his feet and left him crumpled on the floor.   
The heat was rising and with it Balurs laughter. Talorc stood and swore as he ran towards the Fire Mage.  
"INGE IRAE!" Balur cried and a second blast of fire sprang from his staff, striking Talorc on the chest sending him screaming to the floor wreathed in orange flame.  
"Formatus, NOW!" Sal called, parted from them as the fire snaked along the ground to block his path.  
Balur faced his counterpart and sneered.  
"What will you do now Wizard? Your friends are helpless, AS ARE YOU WIZA...!"  
Balur's breath caught in his throat which was where Formatus had jammed his staff.  
Against a warrior, such an attack would never have worked but as a Mage Balur like himself was not equipped to defend against a physical attack.  
Balur gasped and clawed at his own neck but his apple had been well and truly crushed by the hateful impact of Formatus's strike.   
"Give me back my magic you second rate conjurer."   
With those words Formatus extended his hand and the flames died down about them. Revealing Pierre and Talorc, who Sal went to aid immediately.  
When Balur had spluttered his last choked breath Formatus helped Pierre up.  
"Just once I'd like us to leave without getting beaten black and blue." Pierre said leaning on Formatus.  
"That's a shame." Formatus replied jovially "It looks good on you."  
Pierre did not smile.  
"What's that?" Formatus asked Sal as he picked off a blazing red ring from Balur's hand.  
"A souvenir." He said, smiling and tossed it to Formatus, who almost dropped Pierre to catch it.  
"How's the big one?" Pierre asked when he saw Talorc's burns.  
"He'll be alright. I'll be able to see to him properly once we get back to Mentor."  
Talorc groaned, clearly not happy with the idea of retelling this to Mentor.

The day was theirs and in victory a new truth came to light. Talorc's injuries would take longer to heal than they had hoped and as such they would be under strength for their next encounter. Fortunately Mentor had his eye on a suitable substitute who was at this moment making their way to face another evil at the peak of Ice Mountain.  
But that is a tale for another day.


End file.
